


the first thing i noticed was a flaw in your design

by nyx_aeternum



Series: it didn’t happen all at once, but gradually, laid like a riverbed. [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Pre-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21690550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyx_aeternum/pseuds/nyx_aeternum
Summary: His eyes flutter, close, blink open, repeat, until they close and he finds it hard to open them again… it’s okay if he rests, just for a little bit, he can finish grading them before class if he wakes early enough…“Taking a break, Professor?”
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Hubert von Vestra, My Unit | Byleth/Hubert von Vestra
Series: it didn’t happen all at once, but gradually, laid like a riverbed. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577080
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	the first thing i noticed was a flaw in your design

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what tags to add? I just can’t stop thinking about Hubert’s cowlicks... thank u whoever did that
> 
> (Maybe this will be a series?)

The classroom is dimly lit with a candle on the desk, warm amber glow muted by the flickering darkness. Byleth is hunched over his desk, fist pressed against his cheek as he reads over the latest round of essays. His eyes flutter, close, blink open, repeat, until they close and he finds it hard to open them again… it’s okay if he rests, just for a little bit, he can finish grading them before class if he wakes early enough…

“Taking a break, Professor?” He jumps, eyes flying open, breathing in sharp the crisp, cool air. Standing in the dim glow of candlelight where he definitely hadn’t been before was the Imperial Princess’s advisor, giving Byleth a knowing smirk. The smug look on his face told the young professor that Hubert knew exactly how much of a scare he’d just delivered. 

“Hubert,” Byleth says curtly, the corners of his lips turning down in the slightest hint of a frown. Jade hues track the movement, analyzing it like they do everything else, and he thinks that maybe that fraction of change gave away too much. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

Byleth’s gaze narrows. “I’m not the one with a curfew.”

Hubert gives him a look that Byleth takes for amusement. It was hard to tell, at times, since Hubert’s expression changed almost as minimally as his professor’s, but he was beginning to think that he had a fair understanding of the other’s expressions. “Tell me, Professor, do I seem like the type of person to strictly adhere to the rules set in place by the church?”

“Not at all,” Byleth comments fluidly, without missing a beat. There’s a flash of surprise in that calculative gaze before it’s quickly hidden away, even as he continues, “You don’t strike me as the type of person to care what the church requires one bit.”

“What gave me away?” He thinks to himself that anyone else might consider Hubert’s words sarcastic. Maybe it’s because he was raised outside the church’s teachings, but he doesn’t get the sense that Hubert is being insincere. 

Byleth shuffles the parchment in his hands until he’s once again looking down at Hubert’s work. It oozes boredom and disinterest, and even flat out heresy, based on what little information Byleth has actually retained from the sermons he’s forced to attend daily. Surely, if another professor had picked up Hubert’s work instead of him, they would have brought this to the attention of the monks or even Rhea herself. 

Hubert leans over the desk to read the paper upside down and Byleth sees, for the first time, two spirals in his hair on the back of his head. It takes everything in him not to reach out to poke one, lips thinning as Hubert stands and gives him a suspicious squint. “What? What is it?”

“You have cowlicks,” he points out, blue violet gaze staring up at the other in an innocent, almost impish expression. Hubert’s gaze narrows at him, a mirror of how their situation first began. 

“What of them?” The length of Hubert’s hair must help hide them from view. Byleth’s seen quite a few funny hairdos as a result of cowlicks, and he wonders if Hubert’s would be similar. 

“Have you considered cutting your hair?”

“Of course not.” His voice is firm, and he frowns at Byleth. “What a trivial question. The length of my hair doesn’t inhibit my ability to help Her Highness—“

“You keep it that length because you think Edelgard likes it?” Byleth asks curiously. Hubert gives him a dangerous glare and he sits back in his chair, head tilting to the right slowly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, of course. Most people don’t react like I’ve insulted their entire family line if I mention a haircut.”

“How I do or do not style my hair is of no importance.”

“Certainly,” Byleth agrees. “So why not cut it?”

“Why don’t you?” Hubert counters. 

“I’m not telling you that you have to.” He reshuffles the parchment in his hands. “Merely stating that you could stand to cut your hair. I think the result would be… rather interesting to see.”

“What interests you about my hair?”

“You have cowlicks.”

“That’s all?” Byleth’s shoulders lift and fall in a small shrug and Hubert’s scowl intensifies. He thinks maybe he somehow pushed the other too far, but after a moment Hubert says, “It’s never been shorter than this. Not for as long as I can remember, anyway.”

“Is that an excuse, or an explanation?”

Hubert stares at Byleth with an expression that’s completely unreadable. Despite all his work at getting to know the tiny ticks that make up the other’s facial expressions, Byleth isn’t able to make the connection from the expression to what he’s feeling, thinking. 

After a moment, he crosses his arms and turns on his heel. “Good night, Professor,” he says even as he’s stalking away, out of the glow of the candlelight. 

“Good night, Hubert,” Byleth says calmly, levelly, even as he hears the door open and close behind the sullen mage. He can only smile to himself, small and victorious, as he replays the interaction over and over in his head.


End file.
